


Concubine

by Ethan_SN



Series: Kylo X Reader [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Boot Worship, Collars, Cum Worship, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kind of Obsessive, Loving Dominant, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Submissive Character, Sugar Baby, Sugar Daddy, Verbal Humiliation, Woman on Top, doting, master kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 18:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethan_SN/pseuds/Ethan_SN
Summary: You belong to Kylo Ren and your sole purpose is to please him. However, when he comes home upset one day, you both discover that maybe you need to be more than just a fuck toy for either of you to be truly happy. He fucks you, then fluff ensues, then he fucks you again and makes you wear toys to a very public event. Technically a sequel to Bootlicker but you don't need it to enjoy this one, followed by More.
Relationships: Ben Solo & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren & You, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Kylo X Reader [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599601
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	Concubine

He most certainly  _ did _ mean it literally. He had a new lock installed that physically prevented you from leaving- though he did reluctantly inform you that should you  _ want _ to leave, he’d let you. His only stipulation was that if you did, you could never come back.

“You’re mine,” he tells you often, and you take him quite seriously. You don’t want to be anything other than his. You always have been- before him, you were naught but nothingness in an uncreated universe, and the day you saw him had been the beginning- the was the light of a new star born, and everything that came to be, came to be through him. Like the universe, it had started off dangerous and hard to handle- you were a housekeeper still, and he didn’t notice much about your other than your pretty eyes, your  _ ‘delicious’ _ body, and your overenthusiasm to please him. As the years went by, he knew how infatuated with him you grew. It amused him, and he liked to watch you scurry around his chambers, growing more and more feral for him every moment you spent with him. That’s what he calls it when he makes you needy and flustered-  _ feral _ . He knew how your friends teased you, knew it was impossible for you to conceal your need for him, your feelings for him. Your need to please him only grew stronger with time, and as he saw how  _ devoted _ you were, he eased up on you, looking past your mistakes and leaving you little rewards- a note thanking you for your care once, as many vacation days as he could reasonably allot you without seeming suspicious. But you never took any of them, because that would mean you’d not see him all day. He’d nod to you in the hallways. He’d pressure people not to be dirty in the rooms you cleaned- he written your assignment. Originally, you cleaned General Hux’s room as well, but Kylo would  _ not _ have it. Every improvement to your pathetic, nothing life was gifted to you by Kylo.

And then,  _ that night _ . Your first time. Hux had been annoying him, as usual, and you’d come in and dared to  _ obey _ Hux. Hux had  _ dared _ look at your sweet little pet like that. He knew he’d make Hux pay for it- he knew he’d reward you for being such a good listener. No matter how anyone treated you, you did exactly as you were instructed, bending over backwards to please anyone- especially Kylo. He wasn’t sure how at first- he’d had you clean his boots while he thought. But you had been so invested in them, shown them so much care.  _ I enjoy cleaning your boots _ , you’d said. He could feel the adoration and appreciation in your words. He forgot about rewarding you for a moment- he was certain you’d do anything at all in the world for him, and he was determined to test that.

And you were- you still are. You did, and to this day, you do. You’d worshipped his boots, his mask, his gloves with your tongue. You begged him to beat you and greedily worshipped his cock. You’d drank his spit and stared lovingly forth as he fucked you and pumped you full of his seed- and  _ gods _ did you love his seed. If you had the choice, you’d spend your entire life doing nothing but feeling him fill you to the point of bursting with it.

He’d stayed in your mind, making sure he never pushed you too far or too hard, and he’d whispered sweet things to you so you knew he was fond of you. And afterwards, he’d held you and fed you and healed the marks he’d left on you.  _ You’re never leaving my room again _ , he’d said. You never wanted to- the universe the two of you shared is not so young anymore, now full of beautiful planets bustling with life. Some hold delicious pain and torment, some hold wonderous pleasure, some have trinkets and treasures beyond your wildest imagination. Why would you ever want to  _ leave _ ? You don’t know what the world out there consisted of- as a servant, knowledge was forbidden, and as a concubine, you are protected from it.

You clean his room everyday. If you are not allowed to leave the universe, no one is allowed inside. He’s more than alright with that. Sometimes you like to think about the ship crashing and him being unable to reach you, and you die. It’s poetic- only through him do you live, and without him, you would die, alone. He doesn’t like it when you think like that, but you know that’s not  _ real _ , it wouldn’t happen like that- and, besides, he would make sure to get to you. He left an emergency key beneath the plant you’d insisted he put beside the sofa, near the door. If the ship was falling, or someone came in somehow- you could run. He  _ wants _ you to run should something happen, and of course, you would. It’s just a nice thought, is all- poetic.

He walks in unusually late today, and he’s almost tentative. He sits on the couch without greeting you, or removing his helmet. He hasn’t closed the door. You stare at him for a long time, then close the door. It locks automatically. You sit beside him, leaning into him. You’re wearing his favorite- a translucent black lace jumpsuit that had your whole body on display, slits and breaks in it so when you danced for him it sometimes fell to the side, letting your breast free. He’d gotten you dozens of them, as you’d both come to learn he seemed incapable- or unwilling- to not rip it as he fucked you in it, use it to bind you in silly, humiliating positions. He let you curl into a ball on his lap, running his fingers gently over your arm, tracing patterns on your skin. “How do you want me, master? How do you want your puppy?” You are, as usual, overeager to please.

“However you want,” he says. Sometimes he’s controlling, not allowing you to move or think or breathe without permission. Sometimes, he prefers you dote on him. Sometimes, he lets the reigns go completely, and now, it seems is one of those times. But he sounds-  _ miserable _ , dejected. With great concern, you straddle his lap, kissing and suckling at the material over his mask.

“Do you want to use my mouth?” You coo. He loves to use your mouth.

“If you’d like.”

You tilt your head to the side and look into his eyes. You can’t see them- but he can see you. “Please, master, take off the helmet.”

“No,” he says softly. His voice breaks. You go to take it off yourself but he gently grabs your wrists. “No.” He says, firmly this time. Your hands fall into his lap, and you return to kissing his mask.

“Hold me,” you plead as you do, and his arms wrap around you. You’re mindless in moments, grinding against him needily. His member stiffens beneath you, and his head goes limp against the back of the couch. You know how uncomfortable it is for him to  _ move _ with that on. “Please,” you beg him. “Let me look upon my master’s perfect face.”

“I’m not perfect,” he says quietly. Something bad has happened.

“You’re perfect to me,” you breathe, rolling your hips expertly against him. He’s taught you how to please him perfectly. You’re made for him. He’s molded you into his perfect little pet, and you’re only better for it. He seems to deflate at your words.

“Get up, my sweet,” he whispers. You’ve upset him. “No,” he assures you gently, then lowers you to sit on the couch before stalking away from you, towards the kitchen. He is upset, though. With a sigh, he admits it, nodding briefly.

“I want to help you,” you whine.

“I wish you could,” he says softly. You’re not good enough to, though. He swivels, and you don’t have to see his face to know he’s got that same look of concern as he gets when you think about the ship exploding. “You’re more than good enough. You’re too perfect.”

“Then take me,” you offer. “Take me and lose yourself in me until you’re happy again.” He loves the feel of you- he swears it, he’s promised. Memories of him whispering how delightful your insides are flood you, hisses of how perfect you look, how wonderous you taste. You’re his to use for whatever he needs- comfort, pleasure, a toy to torment. He turns and walks towards you, taking your arm and leading you to his bed. He’s taken you everywhere in these chambers- the bed, the floor, the couch, the coffee table, the shower, the counters. Once, he’d fucked you in front of the stove, burners on, never letting the fire injure you but ensuring your nipples stayed in the heat. As fun as those times were, he preferred you in the bed.  _ You’re a princess _ , he’d told you once, causing you to beam up at him as he made love to you, hard and slow and sweet.  _ And I like to make sure you know that _ . He is so sweet to you. You want for nothing more than to make him as happy as he was whenever he releases himself inside of you.

He sits down on the bed and you spin into his lap, dancing for him. He watches you silently, and you know it isn’t working. “You look stunning,” he says. “There’s not a sight in this universe better than you.”

You sit in his lap. “Let this sight see you, master. Please.”

He sighs, knowing you won’t stop pestering. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,”

“Like what?”

“Weak.”

Your head tilts to the side again. He isn’t weak. You remove his helmet for him when he doesn’t budge, and you gasp at the sight of a cut beginning on his brow and trailing down beneath his shirt. It’s already been attended to by someone else. You’re first shocked, then horrified, then  _ furious _ at whoever dared hurt him. He looks at you tiredly as you gently attend to it, but a medical plaster had already been applied. It would be unwise to try and remove it. “Who hurt you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

“Was it Hux?”

He scoffs. “No.”

“Supreme Leader?”

“No.”

You fix him with an unhappy look, your lips pursed, jaw tense. He looks down. “Her name is Rey.”

You kiss the skin around the wound gently. “I will find and decimate her,” you breathe. He can’t help but smile- he mentally reminds you of just a few nights ago, when a strange bug had found its way into the chambers, and you’d begged him to carefully release it outside… And that you cried when he killed it. “Well,” you argue, kissing his face more. “That bug didn’t wound you, did it?” He lays back and you go with him, kissing and licking his gorgeous face. You know it’s not about his wound- it’s about the fact that he could be wounded by someone. You lick his lips, press your tongue into his mouth, kissing him, and he responds. Your mind has melted completely by the time you remember you’re meant to be cheering him up. You sit up and dance again, and his hands find your hips. “What do you plan to do to Rey?”

“I’ll find her,” he says, watching you move. “I’ll take what I need from her… And I’ll kill her.”

“Good,” you say. “What do you need from her?”

“Information,”

You pause to shoot him a patient smile. “She knows where Luke Skywalker is.” He knows that you don’t know who Luke Skywalker is.

“Can’t you find him with the Force?” You dance for him again.

“No,” he mutters. “If only it were that easy.”

“Why do you need him?”

“To kill him.”

“Why do you need to kill him?”

He doesn’t answer, but his nostrils flare, and you decide to let that question go unanswered. “Skywalker is our enemy,” you breathe.

“Yes. Stop talking about him now- and Rey.” He’s himself enough again to pick you up and turn you around a top him, sitting up and moving to the end of the bed. “Dance for me. Sing to me.”

You do, of course, basking in his attention. He’s recovered now- all it took was you. The thought makes your heart flutter… As soon as he let you in, he improved. He seemed to like that thought, and it made you smile.

He watches you dance for longer than usual, stroking and touching you more often. Then he pulls his cock out and rubs your already soaked cunt- dancing is as erotic to you as it is to him- through the delightful fabric. He nibbles on your ear and runs a tongue around it. He reaches down to rip the fabric easily in two beneath you, then tucks the bodice beneath your breasts, exposing them. He lays back and you straddle him again, rubbing your slick folds over his boiling hot cock. His eyes flutter like they always do and you swoon like you always do- then, you raise your body and he holds his cock still for you to impale yourself upon it. Your cunt has been molded to him, forced to submit, made to be perfect for him, just like the rest of you. He watches you as you bounce and swivel your hips atop his mighty size, fucking him exactly how he likes- he’s taught you well. He can feel you focusing intently on pleasing him, on moving precisely how you want to, of  _ behaving _ and  _ pleasing _ and  _ excelling _ . You think that works him closer to his orgasm just as fast as your needy, throbbing, clenching cunt.

As usual, he grabs you when he comes and pulls you tight against him. He grabs you by the hair at the nape of your neck and rests his forehead on yours, staring into your eyes as your hips rock together. “I love you,” he breathes. Your mouth falls open and you whimper as heaven breathes life into your soul. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, master,” you purr. He’s never said that to you. It’s the best moment of your life.

He sets you down on your back and you sigh contentedly, feeling his cum bubble out of you obscenely. He fetched a toy from the nightstand and pushed his mess back inside of you, first with his fingers- making even more spill out, the feeling making you shudder with delight- then with the Force. He presses the toy into your buzzing pussy to keep the liquid gold inside of you, then he licks and sucks up the side of your pink flesh all the way up to your clit, then spins his tongue expertly around. You moan and whimper and struggle to keep your legs splayed open, just like he likes. “Do what comes naturally,” he mutters. “I want to see you unfiltered, unabashed. I want to watch you as I lavish you, sweet pet.” He sucks  _ hard _ on your swollen bud, then, letting his teeth grind gently. You cry out and it fizzles away into a whimper, your thighs clenching around his face, hips bucking forward. He supplies enough white hot pleasure that you’re incapable of considering you might hurt his wound. He drenches his fingers in your fluids and his spit before prodding your rear entrance with two gentle, teasing fingers. He’s never put himself inside of you there, never anything more than one single finger at a time. It’s maddening, but he likes to tease you with the promise before ripping it away. He swore he’d take you there  _ one day _ , but he hasn’t yet. He spreads your muscles open as far as he can, leaving you gaping just a tiny amount, but it feels enormous to your (relatively) chaste hole. Then, he indulges you, sliding his middle finger in and fucking you hard and fast. You’re crying out loudly, practically singing for him once more, your still covered thighs wrapped around his head as he devours you, your pussy still full of him cum and the small toy, your ass full with his finger. His other hand reached up to forcefully grope your breasts and tease your nipples. You revel in it for a long moment before grabbing his wrist and dragging his fingers into your mouth, and you suckle on them, mewling around them. One hand clings to his while the other buries itself in the downy curls of his beautiful hair. He knows how to finger your mouth, rotating at random between letting you work, exploring the caverns of your mouth, and forecfully fucking you with them, threatening to make you sick. You’re drooling from both ends for him, a mindless pile of pleasure at his mercy.

“Oh, master,” you mutter into his fingers, your words gibberish. You sound ludicrous and obscene. “I’m so close-”

He uses the Force to fuck you hard with the toy, making you cry out in ecstasy. He suckles on your clit, rolling it around with his tongue. He stretches your ass with his finger, tilting and twisting. He fucks your mouth fast and hard, and you plush up your cheeks and your tongue and your saliva bubbles up over your lips, rolling down your face. The sounds of it all are lewd and vile, and they have just as much effect on you as anything else.  _ Come for me, puppy _ . He forces the demand into your mind, and it’s like another penetration. You do, crying out and choking on your spit, and it’s  _ wonderful _ . He doesn’t dare stop as you chortle, though he frees your mouth of his fingers and monitors you closely. You’re a twitching, whimpering mess when you’re done, and he leaves your asshole and makes the toy plop out of you as your legs, sore from squeezing and spasming, fall to the bed. His seed leaks out of your abused cunt and your walls and thighs twitch as he suckles still on your clit, not minding the semen that dots his chin. When the pleasure threatens to give way to pain, he sits back to watch the mess spilling out of you still. Then, he Forces it back inside and watches you drool out his cum once more- he knows it’s your favorite part, save for possibly the initial arrival of it. You pant up at the ceiling.

“I love you,” you breathe.

“I love you, too.” He stands and strips then lays beside you, and you curl into his big, strong, familiar arms.

“Let’s run away together,” you whisper. 

“Absolutely,” he sighs, but you both know you’re only playing pretend. Just like the ship… Though neither would mind this fantasy coming true.

“Find a desolate planet with a beautiful view and absolutely no other life. You’ll never have to leave me, ever again, not even for a moment.”

His face morphs into a sad longing. “Yes,”

“You can keep me on a collar and leash and take me for walks at sunrise and sunset- crawling on my hands and knees like a good pet.”

He smirks, imagining it. Your tongue lolling out, drooling. There’s a tail-like toy in your ass that wags like a tail- it’s huge and it vibrates, filling you up and ensuring you never grow used to its presence. You shudder at the projection, loving it. “Good puppy,” he praises you, kneading your ass. “Good bitch.” He slaps you then, hard.

“You breed me like a stud with his mare,” you say dizzily. You like the thought of being bred by him- in your fantasies, you grow plump and round with his seed, though you rarely imagine farther than that. Perhaps you’ll bare his child, one day, but that isn’t the part that excites you.

“You will bare my children,” he says hopefully, longingly. “Lots of little babies running around our paradise, some that look just like you, some that look just like me, some that look like the two of us.”

You smile and stroke his skin happily. “Perfect,” you coo. “Just like it’s meant to be.”

“Yes.” He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him, tucking your face into his neck. You’re laying on the bottom part of his wound, but it doesn’t seem to hurt you- sometimes, you think he must be entirely impervious to pain. “I’d like to take you to dinners, to parties,” he says gently.

“What?” You ask, sitting up. You look at his handsome face.

“I’m a high ranking official in the government- I have to go to aristocratic bullshit all the time.” He traces his fingers lightly up and down your back, and as usual, it drives you crazy. “I’d like to take you with me, and admittedly, show you off. Only if you want to, of course-”

“I’d be honored,” you say, your voice soft and high. You are honored. You stare at his face and he smiles gently. You admit you’re a  _ little _ afraid of going outside of your universe together- but you remember how much better he was after he confided in you, even just a little bit. He has a whole nother universe beyond you- the real galaxy beyond those doors. And out there, it’s much rougher- he wants you to traverse it with you.

“Exactly,” he breathes gently stroking your face. You lean into his touch, eyes closing. “I’m nothing without you.”

“What is a God without his children?” You say jokingly. His thumb strokes your lips. He is no God, though. He’s a man, and he loves you, and he wants you at his side, always.

“You’re everything to me. It terrifies me- the thought of having never gotten you. The thought of being without you again.”

His words are like salve on wounds you didn’t know you had. You realize how dependant you are on him, how it wounds you when he leaves,  _ every single day _ . “You’ll never lose me. I’m yours.”

“I know,” he says gently. “And I think you could use another universe of your own- friends. Places to go. I can’t run away with you and never leave your side, and if you only live for me, it will keep hurting you.”

You open your eyes to look at him sadly. He’s concerned- your fantasies, your musings, they frighten him. You’re reluctant but you trust his judgement. “Alright,” you breathe. He smiles, though there’s a hint of sadness.

He closes his eyes and relaxes into the pillow, and you tuck yourself into his strong frame. “Goodnight, my love,”

“Goodnight, mas-” you freeze, then smile. Happy tears fill your eyes. “Goodnight, Kylo.”

You feel him grin against your forehead, kissing it gently.

Today’s the day. Kylo is taking you to a very formal ball that will be full of military personnel, political allies, potential friends and foes alike. He’s the Supreme Leader now, and you’re his concubine- the dazzling eye candy meant to make all men, women, and otherwise  _ swoon _ and melt for you. You must be perfect, you must be gorgeous, and you must act like a strong, capable, enthralling woman who could control anyone in the world- save Kylo Ren, the only man, woman, or otherwise powerful enough to dominate you. You’re going to make him look even stronger than he otherwise would by extension of your untamable radiance.

There was just one problem on your mind-  _ what the fuck were you going to wear? _

“Kylo!” You cry out.

“What?” He’s in the bathroom, shaving.

“I need you!”

“For what?” You hate him. He’s impossible, and very annoying. You glare at the wall. “I can still you hear you think, you know! I didn’t suddenly disappear.”

“Then you ought to know what I need. Get here.” He takes several minutes to finish shaving before coming to you, drying his face. He’s gotten a new ship, which means new chambers- luckily, this bathroom can be entered through the bedroom. You glare daggers at his handsome face, which he is still patting dry with a towel.

“What?” he demands, annoyed at your annoyance. You huff and spin towards the closet. “You’ll look great in anything.”

“You’re the least helpful human being in the history of the entire universe,” you inform him. You see him smile in the mirror off to the side.

“Show up naked for all I care. I’ll kill every single person who takes issue with it.” You smile, too, at his suggestion. The thought of walking around on his arm, entirely naked and on display, is as comical as it is… Dizzying. He hisses his approval and lowers his lips to your ear. “You might be the most powerful woman in the galaxy, but you’re still a little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pur. All for him. You wanted the entire world to know it, too.

He reaches out and strokes one fur dress. “Puppy,” he taunts. You gently bark in response, and he bites your ear. It’s a strange dress; it shows off your cleavage but hides your figure.

“No,” you say.

“Dominatrix,” he suggests, touching a black leather dress. It’s one he said was a family heirloom, from his grandmother-  _ Padmé _ . She was a Queen.

“Hmm,” you coo, picking it up. “Maybe.”

He clicks his tongue, looking through. He holds you tightly to him, his bulge pressing into your back. You feel so small in comparison to him. “You are small,” he mutters, then touches another dress. “Angel,”

“Too innocent,” you say. It’s relatively modest, though a stunning gown.

“Of course, you want to put yourself on display,” he tuts. You flush red, then he touches another dress. “Riding Crop Red.”

You flush even redder, grinning, plucking the dress up. It’s more scandalous than Dominatrix, but it’s stunning and apparent in its… Glamour. You set it beside the other dress- how could you not consider it with a name like that, though? “More…”

“Lust,” he whispers seductively in your ear, touching a hideous green dress- you admit, the shade of emerald is a stunning one, but the skirt is a giant bell shaped by strange, pillow-like poufs, and the bodice was decorated in garish jewels, the color a strange boxy cone.

“I’d rather gag myself with a lightsaber, thank you,” you mutter, and he laughs.

“The blood of thine enemy,” he says, touching the most expensive thing in your wardrobe. You admit you had not seen it buried in the back, safe from light and dust and any accidental touch. It’s made from the rarest substance in the world- a form of silk produced by an immortal creature from a planet in the Outer Rim. Only one of these creatures remained- many years ago, people had taken them from their planet, only to find that it was the water on the planet- poisonous to all other creatures- that kept it immortal. It took a century to harvest this much silk. It was the perfect mix of seductive, sultry, powerful femme fatale and tasteful, sharp-minded, studious, capable opponent. It was blood red, of course- hence the name. You lift it with as much care as you can.

“Yes,” you say. “Perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“Anytime. Can I return to readying  _ myself _ now, or do you need assistance getting dressed, too?”

You look at him with a smile, eyes narrowed. “You’re insufferable.”

“You seem to suffering through me quite alright.”

You begin to pout and slink to your knees in front of him. He watches you, amused. “I need help, master,” you coo, tilting your head to the side. He grins domineeringly as you slink forward, back arching to expose your silk panties to him, your negligee falling to the side. You run your tongue along boot, eyes closing as you shudder.  _ The most powerful woman in the galaxy _ . You suppose that’s true- and yet here you are, worshipping Daddy’s boot.

“Mmm, you’d better work for it then,” You silently kiss and suck on the leather. Your nipples are hard and they keep bobbing against the cold tile as you move. He forcefully urges you to the other boot when you’re done, making you moan. Once you’ve finished with that one, he gently ‘kicks’ your face away, then presses one cheek into the tile with his boot on the other. “Kiss the ground, cockroach,” he bids. “Worship the very ground I walk on.” You do, kissing and suckling on it, moaning and drooling. Your panties are wet by the time he carefully grinds his boot into your head, pressing you firmly into the ground, mouth agape and tongue out. “Aren’t you lucky to be allowed to do that?”

“Yes, master,” you sputter uselessly into the tile. He removes his boot and you straighten, still on your knees. You gently tug him closer by his pants legs and he stands above you, his bulge tickling your nose. You tilt your head back, close your eyes, and stick out your tongue once more.

He knows what you want. “Fucking slut,” he hisses, crouching in front of you. He spits in your mouth twice, watching you create a little pool of it in your mouth, then coats your face in three clear piles of it. “Drink it,” he demands, and you do. He smears it all over your face, just like you like. He doesn’t need to tell you to open up again- you just do, and he spits in your mouth again. He stands up and undoes his pants- his cock flops out and lands heavily on your tongue. He slaps you with it several times before grabbing your hair, holding your head, and fucking your throat desperately. You slip into that blissfully, reverie-like state you always does when you plays roughly with you, your face dripping with his spit, your mouth drooling your own. The sounds make your pussy ever wetter for him. Soon enough, you feel his cock throb and swell as his salty precum floods your mouth and you swallow around his cock, over and over until he buries your nose and chin in his curls, pumping your throat full. It protests against the forceful act, but your helpless to do anything other than savour the horrible choking feeling as you’re forced to drink his precious cum. He pulls away and plugs your nose before he’s fully finished, knowing you know how to behave- you feel himself Force his cock to keep cumming and you clench your throat shut, letting him fill your mouth with his seed. It splatters over your face, your neck, your tits. He doesn’t stop until his mess has bubbled up to the corners of your mouth. He releases your nose and steps back, panting with exhaustion from that, watching you as you try to chug his plentiful present, chortling and shaking. You’re desperate for air but you can hardly find any as cum races to flood your sinuses; you can only swallow so fast. When you’re finally done, he lets you gasp for air a few times before grabbing your hair in a tight grip and lowering your face to the ground. “Clean up your mess, you filthy fucking freak.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you gasp as you desperately polish the floor.

“You wouldn’t let my cum go to waste, would you?”

“ _ Never _ .” You mean it wholeheartedly.

When you’re done, you turn your face toward him and wait patiently. He swipes up every single drop of cum and feeds it to you- greedily, you suck his hand clean. “Such a glutton for cum,”

“Mmm, yes,” you agree.

“Alright, get up,” he says, and you listen. He kisses you repeatedly, holding your hips and rubbing his thumbs into the satin of the negligee. “Brush your teeth again, I don’t need anyone smelling that on your breath,”

You giggle and obey, sauntering away, knowing he’s staring quite hungrily at your ass- almost as if  _ you _ were the one who came and  _ he _ were the one left waiting. He snarls at your snarky thought and you giggle again.

When you’re done, he strips you in front of the mirror, then produces a small vibrating toy. You grin. “Do we have time for that?”

He grins vindictively, then reaches below you and effortlessly presses it into you. “That’s the wonderful part- you’re wearing to the party.”

“I cannot-” you laugh out.

“You will,” he says firmly, though you’re both well aware you’re free to refuse anything. His lips bite and suckle at your ear as you think; he turns it on low, trying to persuade you. It feels wonderful.

“Yes, Daddy,” you pout. He grins, turns it off, sets the remote to the side. He presses a small plug into your ass, making you bite your lip. “You better pick out think panties,” you say, though your voice is quiet and lustful- you’re full of anticipation for the torture of being stimulated secretly in front of- everyone important. “I don’t think it would be good if everyone can smell my arousal.” It occurs to you some people will- aliens with better noses than humans. You shudder at the thought- they won’t know it’s you, but they’ll smell you. He smirks as he picks out tight, sleek briefs that went from your mid-thigh to your belly button- perfect with nylons, you supposed. He tugs them on you, then black nylons, then the underdress, then the heels, and  _ finally _ \- the stunning blood red dress.

He kisses your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror, careful not to step on your train. “As much as I’d love to dress you more, I must be getting ready,”

“Fine,” you say, then sit at your vanity to style your hair, then very  _ carefully _ apply your makeup. You pull on your gloves and pick out your finest jewelry. You stand and retrieve a lace shawl to drape around you, then walk to the vast living room where Kylo stands, holding- a choker, perhaps. You raise your brows, remove your own, and walk towards him. He fastens it around your throat and you catch your reflection in the mirror above the table beside the door- a  _ collar _ , decorated in the rarest jewels. The middle holds a round platinum bulb, and it makes a strange clinking sound when you move. “It’s beautiful, and I love it, but… Is this entirely appropriate for tonight?”

“It is if I say it is,” he says, and you purse your lips. He glances at your outfit, your accessories. “It works perfectly. No one will notice a thing. Besides…” he gently strokes the shell of your ear with his thumb. “You’re my concubine, not my wife. So what if you did wear a collar?”

You narrow your eyes with a smile. “A concubine and not your wife? Oh, verily- I will remember _ that _ , my love.”

He grins at your playful disdain, leaning in close. “Yet,” he whispers, then turns your toy onto high. You gasp as it spurs silently to life, stirring your already desperate insides.

It is a long night, and not once does Kylo turn the toy down from full force. It puts you in a sort of haze- however, it only adds to your air of seductive plaything. You talk to strangers, letting women kiss you on the cheek, men touch your back, as your master fucks you effortlessly from across the room. For once, you’re grateful you can’t cum just from penetration alone- and infinitely thankful he purposefully keeps the toy away from the interior end of your clitoris. Gods know how these people would react if you creamed yourself in the middle of the ball… As intoxicating a thought as that is, you know it can’t be true, not here and not now.

Another time, perhaps… You wonder if that devilish gleam in Kylo’s eyes means he plans on making that time very,  _ very _ soon.


End file.
